When You See It Promise Me
by Dahls
Summary: Romano realizes that Spain isn't so nice to everyone else. Spamano fluff, child!Romano. The Philippines makes a brief appearance. List of warnings inside.


**AN:** RobinRocks is a wicked mad genius. Apologies to those who see this in the wrong section, this has been done for so long now I couldn't put off publishing it anymore. Stupid error.

Oh man, I'm sorry guys. This is so lame compared to my last fic. Well, anything would be lame compared to my last fic since I spent goddamn forever on that and GerIta is my OTP, but still. This is so sucktastic I should be smacked for it.

OH WELL! MOVING ON.

**Achtung! Very mild, just barely barely violence, a slight potty mouth from Romano, as always, and brief mention of sex at the end.**

My switching between human names and country names was actually strategic, see if you get the pattern. There was reasoning behind it.

Takes place when Romano was still a wee lad, no set years for it though. Take a guess by who else is there.

_While it is kind of out of character, it was based off information Hidekaz himself gave. Look it up in the Wikia. He gave hints that Spain had a "darker side," and I was inspired to express it. Yaddah yaddah, w/e. Go read._

* * *

Lovino covered his eyes as the Spaniard's hands descended upon the young girl, shaking her to and fro by the collar without restraint. "You never listen to me! _Estúpida_! Do what I tell you!"

"A-Ah...! I'm sorry! Please!" The Philippines wailed out, trying to wrench herself away from the larger man. "I-I'll do better next time, I promise!" Lovino peeked from behind his tiny hands against his better judgement. The look on Spain's face froze him in his tracks; any thoughts he had of running quickly dissolved.

Spain had not spotted Lovino watching from the doorway. If the Philippines had, she said nothing, far too preoccupied with her master's rage. "You had better!" The Spaniard released her by shoving her to the ground. She let out another sob that caused Lovino to flinch. "And if you complain one more time, I'll slice out your tongue!_¡Me comprende? _"

"B-But please...!" Spain's eyebrows creased together as the Philippines spoke. "We...We need more food! There's not enough to feed my people, and-"

"_¡Cállate!_" The man raised his hand to strike the girl. She quickly raised her arms to try to protect herself as much as she could.

A young boy's cry rang out and stopped the Spaniard.

He turned towards the small Italian, still frozen with his arm in the air. "R...Romano...? Why are you...You weren't supposed to..."

Tears were rapidly forming in the child's eyes. Spain lowered his arm and turned, trying to proceed towards him, but Lovino quickly turned and ran as fast as his little legs would take him. "Get away from me!"

Spain immediately gave up trying to catch him, remembering how difficult it was to catch a frightened Italian. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, closing his eyes tightly before turning his attention back to the young Filipino girl. He frowned, but no longer felt like reprimanding her. "...Just go, and don't cause me anymore problems." She nodded and quickly ran out, mirroring the Italian from moments ago.

Antonio collapsed into the nearest chair, contemplating his next course of action.

* * *

Lovino clung to the pillow, sobbing into it. He had holed himself up in his own room for once. Normally when he was pissed off at the Tomato Bastard, he would proceed into the Spaniard's room and lock the door, as punishment for upsetting him. But...what he had seen just now...it was much, much safer to be in his own room, Lovino decided.

Spain had knocked a few times over the long span of time, asking, sometimes borderline begging Lovino to come out, but he was met with profuse rejection, each time choked between sobs. He hadn't tried for awhile now, so Lovino was caught off guard when the gentle knock came at his door. "Lovino...?"

"Go away!"

Antonio sighed softly to himself. "There's food in the kitchen, in case you're hungry..." This had been going on for a few days now. He knew that Romano had snacks scattered about in his room, but there was no way Romano's stomach wasn't growling at him by now. "I'm going to my room now, so you don't even have to see me." And with this, Antonio walked away, proceeding to his room as he promised and closing the door behind him.

As he predicted, a few minutes later, Antonio heard the Italian's door open and the soft footsteps proceed out, slowly passing by his bedroom door, then running to the kitchen once the boy had deemed it was safe. Antonio chuckled a bit but let it be, deciding he would finish up some work that needed to be done while Romano had some time to himself.

It was quiet for awhile. He heard the occasional clang of a knife against silverware, and sometimes his papers and maps would rustle a little, but other than that, it was rather silent. Until he heard a loud crash from the kitchen.

Concerned for Romano's being, Antonio quickly bolted up, forgetting what he had told the boy and tearing away from his paper work. He threw open the door and flung himself into the kitchen. "Romano!"

The young Italian looked up to him from his spot on the floor. He had clearly fallen, and was now sitting up, pots scattered about the floor around him, most half covered in soap. Before Antonio could ask, Romano's eyes welled with tears as he tried to back away from the man. "I'm sorry! I was trying to clean the pots for you, but, I...I dropped the soap and then I slipped on it, and then I dropped your things and..."

The Spaniard was rather surprised. Romano? Actually trying to be helpful? The surprise showed on his face, but Romano interpreted it as something else as he began to sob. "I'm sorry, Spain! Nothing's broken! I was trying to help! Please, don't hurt me...!"

Antonio's face softened as he walked over to the Italian. Romano tried to scoot away further, but ran into the counter and didn't get much more say in the matter once Antonio picked him up.

Once in his grasp, Lovino felt helpless and began to wail with more vigor. Spain felt Lovino shaking in his hold and adjusted to hold Romano with one hand, the other moving towards his face. Seeing his hand move, Romano quite visibly flinched, but the hand delicately wiped the tears away, then proceeded to rub soothing circles on the Italian's back as Antonio held him close. Romano tensed up a bit, squirming a little, but soon let himself relax a bit in the Spaniard's hold. Antonio whispered softly to him, "Are you hurt?" Romano only hiccuped in response.

Antonio chuckled as Romano gripped the front of his shirt. Using his free hand, he gently felt up and down Romano's back and sides until he found a spot on the boy's back that caused him to wince and cry out softly. Antonio lifted up the back of his shirt a little to see a bright red mark. "This'll probably bruise..." he murmured, eliciting a small groan from the Italian. This is generally where Romano would say something like, 'This is your fault you bastard,' but from the way Romano was still trembling in the Spaniard's grasp, he guessed Romano was still too afraid to make such a remark.

Ignoring the soapy pots on the floor, Spain carried Lovino to the bathroom. Lovino clung to his shirt for dear life, suddenly afraid that the man would drop him onto the harsh floor, even though the thought would have never crossed his mind at any point beforehand. Silently, he cursed Spain for being so scary, such a jerk, such a tyrant, such a moron; but he wouldn't dare voice such complaints. After all, he had never been mean to Lovino, had he? Aside from that time that he had tried to trade Lovino for his younger brother, Spain never really did anything to him that he could complain about.

Why was it suddenly so different?

As long as Lovino had known him, Spain had been that stupid, happy, tomato bastard that kept making empty requests that they both knew would never be fulfilled and that both didn't really care about. Spain would house him, clothe him, feed him, and Lovino would kick back and do nothing all day. That was the way it had always been, and he assumed that's how it had been with everyone.

But clearly, after witnessing how he treated his other colony, that wasn't the case. Lovino had heard some rumors from other people that Spain was an absolute monster with the way he abused his colonies, but Lovino had assumed it was all a load of crap since he was gaining weight and living the good life. Seeing what happened to the Philippines, though, was enough evidence for all of those rumors to suddenly be true.

Now Lovino couldn't even imagine that stupid, cheery grin on the Spaniard's face. All he could see was that twisted, enraged face, arm raised as if about to hit him.

The sheer thought of it caused Lovino to let out a small, choked sob against Antonio's chest. Feeling his distress, Antonio ran his free hand through the younger's hair, being sure to avoid the bouncing curl that caused the boy so much discomfort.

Arriving to the bathroom, Antonio sat the Italian down on the counter, lifting his shirt off delicately. He frowned a bit, seeing that there were a few red marks on his sides as well. "Romano...? How did you fall?"

The boy looked away, afraid of how the man would react. "I...actually...I fell a few times in my room, too, while trying to reach some of the things on my shelves. It's hard to get the things that you-...that are just up so high."

Lovino bit his lip, just barely avoiding plastering the blame all over Spain again. Antonio noticed, but didn't comment. "I see."

Turning his back to Romano for a moment, Antonio turned towards the shelves, searching for an appropriate jar of ointments and some comfortable bandages for the boy. "Spain...?" The soft, hesitant voice caused Antonio to pause and turn towards Romano. He raised a brow as the boy looked away uncomfortably once more. "A...Are you mad?"

The question took Antonio a bit off guard. "Mad?" He chuckled. "Why would I be mad?"

Spain's warm laugh and smile comforted Lovino a bit, but he wrung his small hands together still. "I...I made a mess, and now you have to do this for me..." Lovino shook his head, eyes wide and tears threatening again. "Please, Spain! I didn't mean to-!"

Antonio stopped the boy. "Romano. I could never be mad at you."

"Liar!" Lovino tried to hop down from the counter, but Antonio swiftly turned and held the boy in place. He struggled in his arms, desperately trying to escape. "How long until I end up getting smacked around like everyone else...?"

"You aren't 'everyone else,' Romano." Antonio placed a kiss on the Italian's forehead, stilling his movements. He leaned down and rested his forehead against the other's. "I would never try to hurt you, and you know it."

Lovino responded by puffing out his cheeks. "You're so full of it, you bastard."

The Spaniard began chuckling again and let go, resuming his task of retrieving the ointments. "Believe what you will, _Lovino._ Whether you believe me or not, I swear, I'd never harm you by my own hand." The smaller male turned red at the use of his human name, but chose to refrain from acknowledging it. Spain turned around with medicine in hand. "This might sting a little at first, but it'll feel better later."

Ignoring the pout directed at him, Antonio opened up the jar and began smoothing the substance over the marks on the Italian. Lovino whined quite loudly and actively, but Antonio didn't mind; it was the most normal thing Lovino had done in the past few days, and it almost felt like everything was back to the way it was. Silently, Antonio lamented, afraid that he could never repair what had happened between them.

After he had finished with the ointment and the complaints finally subsided from the other party, Antonio began wrapping a soft cloth around the boy's midsection, to cover the marks. Lovino was rather quiet and had turned his head away, not facing the man. "...Hey," he murmured weakly, almost as if hoping the other man wouldn't hear, "..._Antonio_?"

Antonio's eyes lit up by the use of his name and a gentle smile donned his face. "What is it?" The Italian looked up to him, eyes wide and innocent.

"...Will you promise?" The man blinked, confused for a moment, then realized what was being asked of him. The smile graced his features once more.

"Of course." He stuck out his pinky as an offering to the boy. The younger scoffed at first, rolling his eyes, but quickly returned the gesture, mirroring the warm smile.

A pinky promise that lasted centuries.

* * *

**Epilogue (Only notrly olololol)**

Lovino laid across Antonio's midsection on a sunny day outside, taking a careful bite out of the juicy tomato he had picked earlier that day.

Antonio smiled, ruffling the Italian's hair. "You've certainly grown a lot. We're almost the same height now!"

Slapping Antonio's hand away, Lovino narrowed his eyes. "We've been _almost_ the same height for decades now, bastard." The Spaniard simply laughed in response as Lovino went back to enjoying his summer treat.

They laid together in comfortable silence for a few more moments until Antonio suddenly broke the silence. "Hey, Lovi?"

"What is it? And I told you not to call me that, you-"

"You're legal now, right?"

"...Pardon?"


End file.
